by W. J. May
“She sounds like a wonderful girl,” Beth said softly, sinking down to the floor beside her daughter, gently rubbing her back. “A wonderful friend.”
A choked sob tore its way free and Rae bowed her head as more tears began to fall. “She really was, Mom. She really was.”
That’s when it suddenly sank in.
Alicia’s dead. I’m never going to see her again.
The last shred of hope fell away. That last bracing spark against the dark reality. The room around her darkened as Rae broke down and started weeping into her hands.
As the daughter finally fell apart, the mother came forward to hold her together.
Beth gathered Rae up in her arms, rocking her gently, as wave after wave of grief crashed over her. Time ceased to matter. It couldn’t touch them there. They simply sat in silence, one holding the other, until the crying finally stopped.
Once it had, Rae lifted her head to stare at her mother. Feeling suddenly as though all the time in the world would never be enough. “Mom…I’m pregnant.”
There was a hitch in Beth’s breathing as a little sparkle danced in her eyes. “I know, honey.”
Rae pulled back, wiping her cheeks as she stared up in shock. “You do?”
A tender smile warmed Beth’s face as she stroked back her daughter’s hair. “It takes a mother to know one. No drinking. Over-protective fiancé. A gorgeous glow.” She laughed quietly as she remembered. “I had more of the nausea than the glow myself.”
Rae fell silent, staring down at her hands. It felt like a very long time later that she was finally able to lift her eyes, a whispered truth rising from her lips. “I’m scared.”
Beth’s arms tightened as she pulled her into a warm embrace. An embrace made all the stronger by the fire that lived inside them. “Of course you are,” she whispered. “But there’s nothing to be scared about.”
“I’m a Kerrigan.” Another set of tears spilled down Rae’s cheeks. “There’s everything to be scared about. What if my kid turns out just like me? A freak among freaks? Forever haunted by a cursed name?” She pulled in a shuddering breath, shoulders trembling as images from the last few years clouded behind her eyes. “So much death. So much pain. No matter how hard I try to fight against it, the legacy continues—”
“No, it doesn’t,” Beth interrupted her sharply. When her daughter looked up doubtfully, she took her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. “Your father was hated. You are loved. He tried to take over the world. They asked you to be the president. He could never find happiness, but you—my darling daughter—you did.”
Beth was crying now, too. Watching as the hope for her every future slowly came to life.
“You write your own story, Rae. You embrace your own destiny.” The two of them locked eyes. “No one can decide what the future holds but you.”
It wasn’t until the two of them had gone back downstairs that Rae understood the real meaning of her mother’s words. That a simple truth, one she’d been struggling with for what felt like her entire life, finally became clear.
The sins of the father are NOT the sins of the son. Or the daughter.
A fierce fire burned inside her. Clearing her eyes, and settling her heart. Beth was right. No future was set in stone. It was what you made of it. And Rae was going to embrace that future with all the strength her mother gave her. With all the strength she’d discovered deep within herself.
All she had to do was stay alive.
* * *
As it turned out, that future didn’t waste any time getting started.
The representatives from the Council had stayed very late. To say that they were displeased to have discovered that Rae and Devon were getting married was an understatement of supernatural proportions. But it paled in comparison to the news about Alicia.
They reluctantly agreed to let her go into the field, hunting down the evil that plagued them once and for all. They even more reluctantly agreed to her second request. But it was a deal-breaker.
“An official pardon?” Keene stared back at her with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”
Alistair Malcolm, a grisly old battle-axe who could have professionally impersonated Victor Mallins, leaned forward with a snarl. “Gabriel Alden and Angela Cross are the primary suspects in more active investigations than your damn father! Requesting that they just be pardoned—”
“No, no, no, Mr. Malcolm—you misunderstand me.” Rae stared at him evenly from her own chair. “I’m not requesting that they just be pardoned, but that they also be fully instated as agents of the Privy Council. With all the privileges and protections there within.”
Malcolm’s eyes bugged halfway out of his head, but unless Rae was mistaken she could have sworn a tiny smile flitted across Keene’s face.
“Furthermore, I wouldn’t call it a request,” she continued, speaking with the same tone of ringing authority she’d heard Carter use so many times. “A request implies room for compromise. Room for change. Feel free to consider this an executive order from your sitting president.”
“An executive…” Malcolm spluttered and cursed, trying his best to appear rational in what he clearly took to be an absurd situation. In his defense, it didn’t help that he was sitting next to a dripping recreation of the David. “We will…we’ll consider it.”
Rae smiled. The kind of smile that wasn’t really a smile at all. “You’ll do more than consider it. You’ll make it happen. Now.” She pushed abruptly to her feet, effectively ending the meeting. “I expect the paperwork to be sent over tomorrow morning.”
Malcolm seemed incapable of basic speech, so Keene simply steered him gently towards the door, flashing Rae a little wink as he passed by. “Yes, ma’am.”
The second they were gone she collapsed into a chair at the dining room table, all her reserves of emotional maturity running dry. It didn’t help that the rest of her friends, the Council’s legendary heroes, were currently trying to unstick Annie’s tongue from an ice sculpture, armed with a tub of peanut butter, puppy aspirin, and a hairdryer.
Rae didn’t think that anyone else was even left in the house, until Luke’s father walked out of the shadows and pulled up a chair. They shared a quick smile, blowing out the tapered candles on the table before the cloth caught fire. Then they simply sat back in silence. Lost in thought.
“Carter was always so protective,” he finally murmured, gazing out into the darkness.
Rae looked over in surprise. By this point, her every movement was exhausted. Her every emotion stripped raw. The last thing she expected was to have a conversation about Carter. “I’m sorry?”
“I never understood it,” he continued in that same quiet voice, eyes so far away it was like he was talking to himself. “I’ve never seen anyone capable of what you and your friends have done over the last few years. Never seen anyone so resilient, so resourceful, so strong. How could he look at you and feel protective? You seem the last person in the world to need it. But now I understand…”
Rae’s breath caught in her chest as he turned to look her in the eyes.
“When I first met you, I saw a broken young woman. An unwilling symbol of the revolution. A mere child forced reluctantly into a position of great power. Today, I see the same thing. A tired, hurting, young woman. The unwilling symbol of an entire government. But still…willing to try.” He shook his head thoughtfully, gazing at her in the soft light. “It’s time to give you a normal life, Rae. You’ve earned it a thousand times over. All of you.”
The dining room fell silent once more, and he left shortly after. Rae sat there until Devon took her by the hand and led her up to bed. She wasn’t sure how much either of them slept, but it was enough just to lie there. Safe in each other’s arms.
Thinking about what was to come…
Chapter 12
Epping Forest. Two weeks from Friday.
The words looped like a mantra through Rae’s mind. She found herself chanting them at odd times under her breath
. Reciting them like a litany as she tried to fall asleep. They focused her when she started to drift. Frightened her when she wasn’t careful. But no matter what, they kept her moving. Momentum. That was the game they were playing now. Perpetual forward motion.
She wasn’t the only one. The words hung heavy over the rest of them as well. Forcing them each to deal with the ticking two-week deadline in their own unique way.
Angel spent every waking moment at the shooting range. Sending away even the most skilled English gunmen with massive blows to their self-esteem. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to be ready for a physical fight, Julian started going with her. After the guns began to bore him, he spent every waking moment combing through the future. Samantha’s compulsion on him still held, barring him from seeing her directly, so he scanned the periphery, trying to pick up on any little detail that might prove useful to their cause.
Luke and Devon spent the winter days trying to beat each other to death. In a cheerful sort of way. What started out as a friendly competition, soon flared up into something that would have looked more at home on a Marvel movie set than it did in Rae’s backyard. Devon’s skills were truly unparalleled. They had yet to meet their match in a fight. But Luke had grown up fighting without a tatù. He thought differently, moved differently. And was constantly catching Devon off guard.
The two of them said they were merely ‘training,’ just to appease their watchful fiancées, but the stakes had risen a little higher than all that. It wasn’t long before they stopped betting money, and started betting other things. Like property. And cars.
The girls, on the other hand, spent most of their time indoors. Instead of practicing hand-to-hand like the boys—a little difficult seeing as they were both pregnant—they focused on the smaller things instead. On trying to expand what powers they already had, fighting like mad for every excruciating inch. It was exhausting. Thrilling. And terrifying. All at the same time.
One memorable morning, Molly lost control and the electric glow that was usually kept contained to her hands spread halfway up her arms. It was a good thing that Annie was outside with the boys, and Rae was practicing her levitation—so that neither one of them was on the ground to feel the shockwave that followed. Unfortunately, the city of London wasn’t so lucky.
Maintenance workers came and left, but still had no idea how one faulty generator could have blacked out eleven city blocks. Guiltily avoiding the furious glares of their men the girls decided to call it an early day, and spent the afternoon flipping through wedding magazines instead.
Kraigan was back, much to everyone’s dismay. But, Rae had to admit, they were a little glad to see him as well. The guy might be certifiable, but at least he was on their side. As long as they pointed his crazy in the right direction, there was a chance he might actually do some good.
Which only left Gabriel.
He was the only person in the group who didn’t seem to have a go-to coping mechanism like the rest of them. He didn’t throw himself into any one activity entirely, but flitted from group to group. One day, he’d be blasting away at the gun range with his sister. The next he’d be asking Julian practiced questions, trying to center his visions. After that, he’d spend some time outside sparring with Luke and Devon, before coming in to work on the ins and outs of metallic manipulation with the girls.
Most days, however, he spent locked away in his apartment. It made perfect sense, given the fact that a psychopath had recently doorbell-ditched his dead girlfriend. However, strangely enough, Rae didn’t think that’s what had him so undone.
He had liked Alicia very much, and the attraction between them was undeniable, but he didn’t know her that well. He hadn’t known her that long. When Samantha stole the girl’s life, she probably thought she was delivering a kill-shot to Gabriel as well. But, while Alicia’s death caused him a great deal of pain, it wasn’t the thing weighing heaviest on his mind.
For the first time since coming clean, since throwing in his lot with the group of friends and becoming part of the family, Gabriel felt as though there was no longer a place for him.
At first Rae thought it was for the simple reason that everyone else was paired up. There weren’t six people in the gang, there were seven. That naturally implied an odd man out. But it went a little deeper than that. It wasn’t about physical attraction—Gabriel could find that no matter where he went. It wasn’t even about finding true love, as it wasn’t something he craved like the others.
It was about finding happiness.
All of them, every last one, had found a way to shake off the trauma that would have defined them. To burn brighter than the darkness, and open themselves up to the possibility of true joy.
Even his little sister. The white-haired monster he had raised in the ground beneath a cemetery…even she had found her happy ending.
Gabriel still had not.
It was perhaps the only problem in the world that Rae couldn’t fix. The only path she wasn’t able to follow. It was something he had to find for himself.
Later, it’s something he can find later. For now, we have a bad guy to kill. One last one.
Momentum. Constant momentum.
And so, the training continued. The visions progressed. And as the day of reckoning loomed ever closer the family banded together, hoping only to survive.
It was an uphill battle, but perhaps the strangest bit of preparation thus far had been spiritual. However, instead of going to a church, Simon and Tristan had gone to a grave.
Rae had tagged along, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else. But, while she had heard the name, she didn’t know the man they were going to see. Didn’t understand the profound importance of the visit, until she was standing in front of his grave.
Jason Archer.
It was small, unassuming. Set apart from the rest. But you could tell the importance of the person lying there by the looks on the faces of those still standing.
It was quiet for a long time. With both men staring down while Rae stood a few feet behind them.
Then Simon shot Tristan a sideways grin. “He would’ve kicked your ass.”
“Me?” Tristan looked up in surprise. “Everything you’ve done over the last twenty years, Simon, and you think Jason would have kicked my ass?”
Simon merely grinned, brushing a rock away from the plot with his shoe. “You left the PC. All his hard work and training gone to waste. Yeah, he would’ve beaten you to death. With a smile,” he added, tossing a wink over his shoulder to Rae. “Jason always did those things with a smile.”
She couldn’t help but smile in return. As strange as these last few weeks had been, the trip to the cemetery almost felt normal. Reminiscing about the legendary trainer. “He could have done that?” she asked Tristan curiously. “Beaten you in a fight?”
She’d heard the stories about Devon’s dad. She couldn’t imagine it. He was like Devon, tatù and all.
“Hell, yes,” Tristan laughed quietly, “with his eyes closed. Who do you think taught me?”
Simon chuckled appreciatively before shaking his head, a mock frown on his face. “And after all that…you just walked away.”
Tristan’s smile faded slightly, and he lifted his eyes to the trees. “Yeah, well…I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t be in the field anymore.”
Simon turned to him thoughtfully, hearing the story for the first time. “You chose not to?”
Tristan bowed his head with a nod, letting his dark hair spill into his eyes. He looked very much like Devon when he did that. It was easy to see what he’d looked like at sixteen. “Yeah. After they fired me.”
Simon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Fired? Tris, the Council worshipped you. They would have never fired—”
“Relocated,” Tristan amended. “I wouldn’t fire my gun. Didn’t do my job.” His eyes darkened momentarily, as he stared back at the grave. “Then I started firing it too much.” The three of them stood in a charged silence for a minute befor
e he lifted his head with a wry smile. “They gave me the school instead. Figured I wouldn’t shoot the students.”
A dangerous assumption...Given the volatile history of the school.
Simon obviously seemed to think so, too. “They thought you were unstable, so they forced you to sit behind a desk all day with a loaded handgun? Have they never seen The Shining?”
Rae bit down on her lip, sensing it would be wildly inappropriate, but even Tristan softened with a faint smile.
“There were times I wanted to use it. On your daughter, in particular.” He cast an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “Nothing personal, Rae.”
A few months ago, she’d have freaked out. But now she believed him. She had come to understand his reasons for doing the things he did. For walling himself away. As strange as it sounded, they had been done out of love. “You’d have to get in back of a long line, I’m afraid…”
The three of them laughed quietly, still staring down at the grave. The wind picked up and tossed little bits of ice into the air—a precursor of the storm to come.
Simon glanced once at the darkening skies, lowering his gaze to the tombstone. A look of abject misery came over his face and, for a split second, Rae thought he was going to cry. “I’ve ruined everything,” he whispered. “Ruined it all so terribly. Jason knew all about Cromfield. He only ever wanted me to get away…”
Tristan didn’t say a word. He simply hesitated for a moment, clapping a brotherly hand on Simon’s shoulder. Simon bowed his head for a moment, overcome with the emotion of it all, before turning in quiet supplication to his friend.
“You know that brainwashing device of mine? Think you could use it on me?”